The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-04-06

eoncells sne senses man under her bed.
Then she raises the honse in the middle of the
night
| ~They say she's got four kinds of sickness
| to wunst, remarked Katy
| ~Yes, everybody that sets foot in the house
has got 10 go and hear about her lungs. It's
| going to carry her off with the gallopin' con-
sumption before spring, she tells folks. Then
| she coughs cough like she WAS holier from
her heels up. But old Madame Frenchy who
| tends her says she never coughs none at night.
| Her hands is as plump as a baby's and she
weighs more than Shirley
'.rve heerd she can't walk, OF feed herself
without help continued Katy.
That's another OF her notions scornfully
retorted Ms Simpkins ~She senses she
can't turn herself over Every time She
wants to be moved, she screeches for some of
'em TO come and lift her But she can turn
herself over fast enough il she thinks nobody's
lookin'. 1t takes her half minnit to put
every bite o victuals into her moath. She
pretends 70 think she's got chalk in her jintx.
and they've got brittle ani1l break if they're
moved unexpected. She crooks her fingers
that slow when anybody's lookin', till you'd
think il twas funeral waitin' for thecorpse's
cousins TO take their leave. But when Mad
anne Frenchy tells her what purity whits
hand she's got, and what slim knuckleS-she
does 1t o purpose TO try her, old Mis- Frenchv
does shes smart enough, l war'nt ye,-then
she forgets herself tee-totel, she does, and
lifts her hand and hnbers her fingers out an
out like pisnna playin' You can say what
you please, but them kind O. rheumatic I've
got my opinions of.
Mis- Simpkins shut her jaws with snap
Ike steel trap and ceased. Katy Tringle
took up the narrative.
sa1ha ,lairbl,arS cave H., ,,,--h -
barl o doctor books, and she reaCB EN- all
day, studyin' out what she calls her symptins.
Shed better be readin' her Bible and maxim
her peace with her God and her neighbors, il
she's goin' TO die SO fast
Katy Tringle stretched out her neck and
gave hiss not unlike defiant goose. In
deed, both in appearance and mental qualif-
cations, Miss Tringle resembled somewhat
that invaluable domestic bird. The hiss set
Mis- Simpkins going again.
Yes. she says the doctors don't understand
her case at ALL" says she ~Dr Pumpkins
they've rowsted out dozen times in the
night to go out there cause Mis- Carstone
wouldn't hive till morning. Last night they
sent fur him he jist naturally up and wouldn't
GO / heerd every word they said myself,
right next door to the doctors shop He told
'em he was too tired to so anywhere, and he
wouldn't go tosee his own mother -in-law that
night"
Again this little Mis- Simpkins .Gut her
p,outh with a snap like steel trap.
again the old maid prompted her, and
again set her going
Mis- Carstone amt more the same
woman she was when he wuz livin' than if
she'd turned into porkypine. She's as cross
as pizen. If they go agin her the least mossel
she threatens the children she's agoin' to die,
and tells 'em they'll be sorry after she's dead
But she'll be alvin after you and mes laid
out on our coolin' boards. you mark"
Which was quite true. Mis- Simpkins
summed up in final gush of emphatic
opinion:
"She goes nag, nag, naggin' from mornin'
till night, and nobody's got minit's peace in
the house. Lordl Lord! il l had her, I'd
take the kinks out of herl"
Then she shut her jaws with snap which
was plainly to close out.
The village gossips diagnosis was only too
correct. To this hopeless state pretty, gentle
Mrs. Carstone had brought herself, simply
by giving way to her emotions, and coddling
her little ailments. The process is not diff
cult one for anybody.
Shirley's way was not path of roses, turn
which way she would The question of
money bringing work had beset her sorely,
but a beginning had been made toward set
ting that. The present Mis- Simpkins
opened her mouth and decided the matter
She said to the squire
whats the use of maxim sich to-io about
a schoolmaster, when there's one right under
your nosesl Give the-school to Shirley Car
stone. She can write and indite and cipher
as good as the Presbyterian minister hisself,
if she is female. She amt no great shakes
in years, but she'll come o. that, if she's let
alone. Most of US does"
So it came about that Shirley found her
self in the place the master had filed. She
had taken the work that lay nearest. A
dreary, distressed life she led at first. In her
disappointment and inexperience, death would
have been easier-far easier, indeed.
On this sullen, rainy autumn evening she
had gone home from her school and sum
moned up all her courage all her philosophy,
to meet the situation Harry, the youngest
little boy, dangerously i'll. That after
noon was a question of his life or death. Her
| mother was so overcome that she went from
| one fainting fit into another. Between her
calls for hot water and cold water and rasp-
berry vinegar and smelling salts, and her be-
| ing constantly moved she had kept the house
hold on the trot for hours. The sound of her
peevish groanings was still in Shirley's ears as
y
lay look of joy lighted his white little
face as he saw the strong, tall sister He
lifted his wasted arms feebly about her neck
and moaned:
"Help Harry, Shirley"
She lifted the mite of body in her arms,
and walked back and forth, soothing the
child
"You better let him die, Mademoiselle," :"
said old Madam Frenchy. He will be better
off. II he die now he viii go to de heaven.
If he live you know not ware he will gon
But Harry did not die After he came to
| be a man he remembered that illness. He al
ways said Shirley saved him She was so
strong and CHEEKY and gentle that he said
| from the minute he saw her face that day it
put new life into him.
All night she held the child in her arms.
All that night, while she rocked him and
soothed him and gave him his drink, she
| looked her future steadily in the face
She saw that her hands were TO be full for
| years to come. The work that lay before
| her was the most distasteful, dispiriting task
| to which her hands could have been Set. She
| must put the poem aside. Perhaps now it
| would be three years before she could begin
| it. What then. Her range of knowledge
| and feeling would be all the wider, the richer
| and deeper, for this melancholy experience
| that was TO be hers So the brave Spirit
reasoned But she never thought of giving
! up the poem. Not once.
Down the vista of years Shirley saw pow
erty, disappointment, toll that was hateful to
| her, and bitter self denial
She saw all this and she did not shrink